


The Bookshop Around the Corner

by Huffleporg



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Bookshop Owner AU, Captain Swan Secret Santa 2017, F/M, Rom-com genre, You've Got Mail AU, mentions of previous relationships for both characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huffleporg/pseuds/Huffleporg
Summary: For the past five months, Emma Swan has been talking to RollyJoger online, little does she know, he's actually the man that just might run her small bookshop out of business.





	The Bookshop Around the Corner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snarkycaptainswan4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkycaptainswan4/gifts).



> Hello and welcome to my Captain Swan Secret Santa 2017 gift for snarkycaptainswan4! I would like to give her a big thanks for inspiring this fic.
> 
> I would also like to thank Best-Left-Hook-Jones for beta-ing this fic.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> -Morgan

Emma wished that the stress of the day could wash off of her the minute that she crossed the threshold of her apartment, but unfortunately, she was granted no such relief. She let out a sigh, set down her purse, and hung her keys up on the hook by the door before heading to the kitchen. 

Uncorking the half-finished bottle of wine, she started looking for a wine glass. Finding none in her cabinet, she opened the dishwasher full of dirty dishes. Grumbling, Emma picked out a wine glass and ran it under some water. “Alcohol sterilizes,” she murmured to herself. Besides, the only person who could have drunk out of it was herself, and she wasn’t exactly worried about what she could catch from herself. 

Full glass in hand, Emma turned and walked to her bedroom, hope rising in her chest for the first time in hours. “Please let him be on,” she said softly, repeating it several times until she was sitting in her comfortable black chair in front of her cluttered desk. The pseudo-prayer of hers increased in speed as she opened up her laptop and woke it up from its deep slumber. Finally her desktop materialized. Quickly, she clicked on the application to open it up. As the chat app whirred into gear, she took a gulp of wine.

And there he was. 

_RollyJoger_ with a little green dot next to his name.

Emma broke out in a smile. She set down her glass of wine and clicked on his name to open up the private chat window. As it popped up, she saw the end of last night’s conversation that had gone on far later than she should have. She had been yawning the whole morning after staying up long past her bedtime talking to _RollyJoger_. But, after the past five months since she had met him in the Single Parents of NYC forum, that had ceased to be something new.

At long last, Emma began to type.

_LostGirl815: I feel like I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you, so I’m so glad you’re on._

It didn’t take more than a few seconds before she saw “ _RollyJoger is typing_ ” below her message. She took a sip of wine and waited.

_RollyJoger: Me too. Feel like that every day to be frank._

_LostGirl815: Same. But today especially._

_RollyJoger: Why? What happened?_

She brought her glass to her lips as the memories of what had felt like one of the longest days running the bookstore since she had opened it flooded back to her. It had started off good enough; a storytime for the kids meant to make up for the fact that during the summer break the children spent little time around books. She had finished her coffee while she had watched the handful of children come in and sit around the large rocking chair on the circular rug in the center of the bookshop. 

After making sure their children were settled and ready for the half-hour of stories, a few parents began to wander the shelves of books, but most just sat down in the metal folding chairs, pulling their phones out. No doubt they had realized that there was little that would entertain them in a children’s bookstore. It was nothing new for Emma. Considering how this particular story time was meant for six-year-olds and up, she rarely expected the parents to get especially involved. This wasn’t a toddler or baby storytime. 

Most of the children and parents that came in were familiar faces. Only three faces were ones that she had never seen in the shop before. Emma looked at the blonde little girl with a well loved toy elephant, chattering on excitedly to a man sitting on the rug with her who she could only assume was her father. From her angle behind the counter, Emma could only see the back of the man’s head. A boy a few years older than the girl came over to the father and daughter, holding out a chapter book Emma recognized as one in the Redwall series. It was one she had seen Henry read several times when he had been in elementary school. 

Knowing that she would only get upset if she let herself dwell on memories of reading books with Henry- the way she did every week he spent with her ex - she turned to Mary Margaret. “I think it’s about time I got the storytime started,” she said, setting her mug of coffee down. 

Her best friend and co-owner of Duckling Books gave a nod. “Seems like everyone’s settled,” she said. “What are you going to read to them today?”

Emma held up the two books that she had picked out for today’s storytime. “Some new arrivals.”

“Hello everyone,” Emma said, walking over to the story circle, “Welcome to Duckling Books summer storytime! I’m so glad to see you today.” She reached the big rocking chair and sat down, looking at all of the children there. 

As her eyes scanned the crowd of familiar faces, she found herself drawn to the newcomers. Having already inspected the faces of the girl and boy, she felt her gaze lingering over the father. Dark hair that was a few shades darker than the little boy’s led to reddish stubble around his jaw. Bright blue eyes were focused on the fidgeting little blonde girl beside him. He leaned forward to whisper something to her, and the girl stopped, staying still, but only for a moment. There was something in his face that sparked some recognition. Had he been here before? No, she prided herself in being able to remember their customers. She had to have seen him somewhere else. 

Emma felt the back of her neck grow hot as she realized just how long she had been staring at the father. Trying to keep her composure, she continued and began to introduce the first story of the day, hoping none of children had noticed. The father certainly didn’t seem to have noticed; he had been much more focused on the children with him than on her. That, at least, was a relief.

The rest of the storytime went much more smoothly, but that was mostly through a concerted effort not to look in the direction of the stranger. Once it was over, she got to her feet. “If you liked the stories you heard today, you can find more like them here. Just ask me or Mary Margaret and we can help you find the perfect story for you.” 

As the group of children and adults started to disperse, Emma began to collect the two books that she had read.

“Thank you, Miss!” said a child’s voice.

Emma turned around to see the blonde girl with her elephant. “You’re welcome,” she said kindly, smiling at the girl. “I’m Emma Swan. This is my and my best friend’s bookstore.”

“I’m Alice,” the girl said brightly. 

“Nice to meet you, Alice.” 

“Alice,” said a soft, accented voice. “You shouldn’t bother Ms Swan while she’s working.”

Emma looked up from the eager girl to see the dark-haired man approaching, his bright blue eyes fixed on hers. Beautiful eyes. For a moment, Emma was speechless, but finally she found her voice. “No,” she said shaking her head. “She’s not bothering me. Quite the opposite. I love getting to interact with children.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why else open a children’s bookstore?” 

Children’s books was hardly the line of work she would have expected for herself to fall into, but when Mary Margaret had come up with an idea to distract Emma from the stress of the divorce and what she was fairly sure was the most bitter custody battle in New York history, Emma had found herself drawn to the plan. It had become her pet project, and now, five years later, she was glad that she had seen it to fruition. It was hardly the most successful bookstore, and it had taken a hit since the large chain bookstore ‘French and Jones’ had opened a store just two blocks down, but it was her and her best friend’s business. And she felt like they did a damn good job of it, all things considered. 

The man gave a small smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Some people get into the book business because of a love of books,” he said. “The social part doesn’t enter much into the equation.”

Emma grinned a little. “What? Are you a librarian?”

“Something like that,” he said. “I actually--”

“Are there more stories?” interrupted Alice, tugging on Emma’s flannel sleeve, clearly bored with the adults talking over her. 

“Alice…” sighed the man.

“Yes, actually,” Emma said, amused. The little girl definitely seemed to be a bit of a handful. An adorable handful. “We have the elementary school storytime every week this time until Labor Day. Then we hold it Monday at four. We’ve also got a book club you can join, if your father gives you permission.” She glanced over at the man who shrugged his shoulders. “Mary Margaret runs that book club, so you can talk to her more about that.” She pointed to her friend who was currently ringing someone up for a stack of books.

“Book clubs,” said the man. “That’s a very good idea. I like it. Can help keep the kids engaged with books. Important. Especially during-”

“The summer,” Emma said at the same time as the father. She grinned. “Yeah, that’s what Mary Margaret and I were thinking. My son loves books, so during the summer he would use the time to read more books than he did during the school year. But not all kids are like that.” He son was special, she knew that. 

“I don’t think Alice has picked up a book since June. So a bookclub should be good for her.”

“Good,” Emma said smiling. “It’s the best book club around here, if you ask me. I’m biased, though. But you certainly won’t get anything like it at ‘French and Jones.’ They’re really not that personal there. I like to get to know my customers and engage with them. Not just ‘here, get your book, come back again, we don’t care if you do though.’” It was certainly a little bit cathartic to insult the competition, especially when she knew that she could definitely offer the community something that chain bookstore never could.

The expression on the man’s face changed from a smile into something that Emma couldn’t quite read. “Every place has its strengths and weaknesses,” he said, his British accent becoming slightly more prominent. “And-”

“Papa?” Alice said, putting the formerly white elephant in between his arm and hip, “does she not like your books?”

Emma began to feel the blood in her face drain. No wonder the man had seemed familiar to her. This was none other than Killian Jones. She had only ever seen pictures of him before, but she had spent enough time hating the name to instantly feel her own demeanor change. All the former warmth and cheer was gone from her voice as she said, “What are you doing here?” She folded her arms and glowered at the man. “Is this some kind of corporate espionage?” 

“What? No,” said Killian, taking a hold of Alice’s hand. The girl just stared at her father confused as he continued, “I just wanted to take my daughter and nephew to a story time. Where’s the crime in that?” 

“And using kids to spy?” continued Emma, staring at the man in disgust. What kind of ruthless businessman brought his child and nephew with him to spy and steal ideas. “First you come to this neighborhood trying to run me and all the other local bookshops out of business, but now you’re trying to steal ideas from us.”

“Okay,” said Killian, backing up. “You seem to have gotten the wrong idea.” He held up his hands. “I’m only guilty of wanting to go to a storytime. I promise you, ‘French and Jones’ has no plans to start a book club or start having story times.”

Emma let out a laugh. “Oh, let me guess, you’re going to give me your word as a gentleman?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t mean anything to me. I’ve got zero reason to believe you.” Trust was something that very few people had earned from Emma Swan, and Killian Jones was the last sort of person to gain it. 

Killian let out a defeated sigh, looking out the ground. “Alice, find your cousin. We’re leaving,” he said firmly enough to prevent any protests from the little girl, who quickly hurried off to find the boy. Killian Jones took a few steps closer to Emma and said, “Believe me or not, but it’s not what you think it is, and I’m sorry that that was the conclusion your mind jumped to.” He paused, seeming to be fighting the urge to say far more that he should, finally concluding, “Have a nice day,” before joining his daughter and nephew by the door. 

The slam of the door practically reverberated around the bookshop. 

Emma felt everyone’s eyes on her as she walked to the back room. 

There had been no improvement the rest of the day. Mary Margaret had glowered at her all day only to give her a tongue lashing at closing about being rude to a man who clearly just wanted to bring his daughter to storytime and have a family day. A shipment of books from a vendor had gotten lost somewhere in Virginia and the shipping company had no idea where they were now. A toddler had gotten sick all over a display of books and the mother had taken the kid out of the shop before they could get her to pay for the books her toddler had ruined. 

All in all, it had been a miserable day. She had been surprised that when she’d left it hadn’t started raining on her to add insult to injury. 

At least now she could relax with RollyJoger and drink her wine. She would take her victories where she could get them.

_LostGirl815: The person who’s responsible for all my work troubles tried to pretend he was a nice guy today._

_LostGirl815: So that was fun._  
LostGirl815: Felt manipulated by the whole thing.  
LostGirl815: My friend is mad at me now.   
LostGirl815: And I had to clean up toddler puke.   
LostGirl815: Great day. 

_RollyJoger: I thought your son was 15._

_LostGirl815: Not my kid’s puke._

_RollyJoger: Outstanding._

_LostGirl815: How’s your day? Has to be better than mine._

For a few agonizing minutes, there was nothing but the agonizing _RollyJoger is typing_ message on the screen. Emma leaned back and sighed, not sure if her virtual penpal had accidently pressed a key while getting up to deal with something or if she was about to get a novel of a response. Or maybe he kept on typing and deleting what he was saying. “Come on, Rolly J,” she murmured, “talk to me.” She drained her glass of wine and got up to pour herself another. When she got back, she found his message waiting for her. 

_RollyJoger: Can’t say it was horrendous or anything that awful, but it was far from the best. Had taken the day off of work to be with family, but my partner had some crisis with her husband, so I had to go into the office and deal with business. I come home and my daughter is crying because she left her favorite toy somewhere we aren’t ever going back. On top of that, my ex (the witch) called, so I’m going to have to muster up the strength to call her back and find out what she wants._

It was a situation Emma was familiar with herself.

_LostGirl815: Might I suggest wine?_

_RollyJoger: I prefer rum.  
RollyJoger: Or beer._

_LostGirl815: In all seriousness, that does sound like an awful day. I’m sorry to hear about that._

_RollyJoger: It’s okay. Not much you can do about it._

_LostGirl815: I can try to cheer you up._

_RollyJoger: I should be trying to cheer -you- up._

Warmth that had nothing to do with the wine flooded through Emma. She smiled and typed:

_LostGirl815: You already have._

***

Emma yawned as she unlocked the door to the bookshop. Talking to RollyJoger last night had made the hours fly by, like it did every night. She had looked at the right hand upper corner of her laptop and been shocked to realize that it was 12:48 a.m.

Even now that she was facing another morning exhausted yet again, Emma didn’t regret it. She loved her nightly chats with RollyJoger, the man who knew more about her than arguably anyone else in her life. She had confessed things to RollyJoger that she had never felt capable of opening up about to even Mary Margaret. At first, she had chalked it up to the fact that it was different talking to someone anonymously online where she wasn’t Emma and he was just a stranger with a boat as an avatar. It was safe to confess things this way. There was no chance that he could betray her. There was no way to see the judgement in his eyes. He simply listened and told her things from his own life that seemed equally buried and equally fraught. 

Emma knew how he and his brother had had to start working under the table when they were in middle school in order to keep up with bills after their father had gotten laid off. She knew how his first real love, an older, married woman, had gotten sick and had died and he hadn’t even been able to pay his respects at her funeral. He had even confessed how his trainwreck of a marriage had been simultaneously the best and worst thing in his life as it had given him his daughter, who meant the world to him. 

Emma knew him, even if she had never seen his face.

To prepare for opening at nine, Emma walked around her shop, tidying up and doing tasks that she had been too tired and mad to do the night before. She straightened up the displays, reshelved misplaced books, and went to the back to replace books that she knew had been bought the day before. She walked through the baby book section, the early readers section, but she stopped when she came to the chapter books section.

An elephant stared back at her - as best it could with only one black button eye - from where it sat on the shelves containing the fantasy novels. 

Emma’s stomach slipped up into her throat.

“Alice,” she whispered, picking up the well-loved stuffed elephant. 

Was it a coincidence?

There were many fathers of young daughters in New York City. Many of them were business owners with female business partners. Any number of them could have had their daughters leave behind cherished toys at places where they would never be welcomed again.

It had to be.

Emma tried to tell herself that. There was no way that sneaky, conniving Killian Jones was the man that she had been talking to for months online. No, that man was kind. He cared about strangers, wanted to make the world a better place, valued his family above all else, and had never once given her a reason not to trust him. He couldn’t be Killian Jones.

And yet, Emma found herself reaching towards her phone, about to do something she promised herself she wouldn’t do: download the chat app onto her phone. She knew that she would probably delete the app later - and if RollyJoger was in fact Killian Jones, she might even delete her account altogether, she thought - but right now unusual and confusing circumstances demanded that she log-on right now. 

Her chat friends list was very short, so it wasn’t hard to find him with a yellow idle sign beside his screen name. “Let me be wrong,” she murmured, “please let me be wrong.” 

_LostGirl815: Is it an elephant?_

Not sure whether or not he would actually see her message, Emma tentatively put her phone back in her jeans pocket. “Let me be wrong,” she continued to murmur as she continued to go about her tasks for opening shop.

Feeling her phone buzz, Emma practically jumped. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, reading the message from the lockscreen.

_RollyJoger: ???_

Emma let out a sigh. If he didn’t connect it to his daughter right away, that had to be a good sign. Or perhaps they had simply talked about so many things that he had forgotten that he had mentioned his daughter losing her favorite toy.

_LostGirl815: Is your daughter’s favorite toy a stuffed elephant?_

For several agonizing minutes, the _RollyJoger is typing_ message kept on popping up and disappearing. That alone was enough to confirm Emma’s fears. 

_RollyJoger: Please tell me you’re the friend._

_LostGirl815: I can’t._

_RollyJoger: Bloody hell._

_LostGirl815: The bloodiest._

All of the hope and happiness that had surrounded her chats with RollyJoger were beginning to leak out slowly, as if she were a balloon that had been punctured. 

_RollyJoger: Can I come over and get it for her?_

Without any hesitation, Emma typed:

_LostGirl815: Of course._

She knew what it was like to have an unhappy child. She would do anything for Henry. Face her ex and his horrible father. Walk through fire. Drink poison. Anything at all without question. 

_RollyJoger: I’m coming over now._

The green active light by his name turned grey.

Emma swallowed and put her phone away. She glanced up at the clock. A half hour until she would be opening shop. She didn’t know when she should expect Killian Jones, the man formerly known as RollyJoger, to arrive. She didn’t even know what she would say to him when he did come. She could just wordlessly hand him the elephant and let him walk away. That was certainly an option, but it was something Emma wondered if she actually, truly could do. This was still the man she had spoken to every night for months. This was the person she had shared her secrets with and who had confided in her. This was the only person she had encountered since her divorce that had made her feel something.

Hope. 

And something else, something she was still afraid to name. 

Emma looked out the window of the shop and saw him standing there outside, hesitant. In a few strides, Emma was opening the door.

“Emma, I-” started Killian.

“I know,” Emma said quickly. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have accused you of spying.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t blame you for making that conclusion. It was… dubious.”

Emma held out the elephant. “You were here for the same reason you’re here now,” she said softly. “You’d do anything for her. Even face someone who…” She let out a laugh. “I thought I hated you. But here I am… here we are… I don’t hate you. After all that we’ve shared these past few months, I don’t think I could.” 

He took the elephant from her and nodded slowly. “Aye, but there’s another reason.”

Emma looked at his eyes, willing him to meet her gaze instead of staring awkwardly at their shoes. “The same reason you wanted to meet in person,” she said quietly, remembering how two months ago he had suggested that they get coffee and actually talk together in person. She also remembered how she had said no, believing that it would be safest to keep things as they were. 

“Aye.”

Emma took a breath, calculating and weighing the options before finally reaching out and grabbing the lapel of his black business suit and pulling him closer to him. She pressed her lips to his, and she wasn’t surprised to find them open for her, allowing her to kiss him deeply. She felt one of his hands come up to cup the back of her head as he leaned forward into the kiss. She could feel an almost electric energy radiating from him and their touch. 

A couple breathless minutes later, and Emma pulled away from the kiss as suddenly as she had started it. She grinned when she saw him follow her, seeking to prolong the kiss. “For the record,” she panted, “I still hate your business model.”

“I… can live with that,” he murmured, his nose nuzzling her cheek before he covered her mouth with his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my gift for snarkycaptainswan4! While we were talking, Snarky suggested an AU of one of several of her favorite movies and listed a lot of Rom-Coms. Never really having written a Rom-Com myself, I knew that I was in for a bit of a challenge, but I think that this AU inspired by the movie "You've Got Mail" isn't a bad first attempt!
> 
> The title comes from a movie that the original play, Parfumerie, inspired - the 1940 film "The Shop Around the Corner."
> 
> Please let me know what you think or show your love with a kudos!  
> -Morgan


End file.
